


your most faithful mirror

by mistralle



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Creepy, Gen, psi-wars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistralle/pseuds/mistralle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And so they sit there, both of them impossible abominations with no right to live, and the world longs to burn in their war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your most faithful mirror

**Author's Note:**

> From the Marvel Wikia:   
> _Cassandra Nova Xavier is what the Shi'ar call "Mummudrai", the spirit that is the equal and opposite of a person. However, due to the amazing genetic potential of Professor Charles Xavier, his Mummudrai was able to create a physical form, effectively a twin. While gestating in her mother, Sharon Xavier's, womb, Cassandra was recognized, by Charles, as an evil presence, and he pre-emptively tried to kill her, with his nascent psychic abilities. Cassandra was barely able to defend herself and the shock of the roiling battle caused her miscarriage. Though the doctors pronounced her stillborn, Cassandra in fact survived and spent the next thirty-plus years as a growing mass of cells in a sewer, building a new body for herself and planning her revenge on her brother._

She looks just like him – with unnaturally blue eyes and short, wavy hair. 

“You should try it.” she says, offering a piece of her cake. “It’s truly the most delicious thing I've ever eaten.”

“My appetite is not as vivacious as yours seems to be.” Charles chokes out. There are bodies strewn all over the street just outside the café. The waitress is wiping the tables outside, and her rag is smudging sickly red spots, turning the plastic into a mess.

“My God, Charles.” Cassandra huffs and pouts a little, and this grimace is not his, but not hers either – she stole it from Raven, she had to. Raven used to look at Charles this way when she was pressing for something. 

There is a father and a young daughter sitting in the corner booth, and it would seem that the child is sleeping in her father’s arms, but Charles knows better. He knows there are blood trails down their ears, and the strong, wide hands that cradle fragile shoulders right now, have recently crushed the tender windpipe not long before their master died.  
Cassandra bends over the table and looks in his eyes, into his very own soul it seems. 

“Charles,” she says, and the smile is gone from her face. “Charles, this is not real. You do get it, right? Whatever happens here is not real, and it never was. The sooner you realize it, the sooner we’ll be able to start playing in earnest. And the sooner it’ll be over.”

She has his DNA, his lips and his jawline. She is his most perfect reflection a warped mirror could produce. 

“Yes,” Charles says, and his mind is calm and tranquil, “Soon, it will be over.”

‘I should have finished this when I first had the chance.’ He thinks. 

Cassandra smiles and swirls her tongue around the spoon sinuously, smearing the cream on her lips.

There are people who don’t deserve to live, and Charles knows it. But he’s not giving anyone to her.


End file.
